


We Are All Jaegers Inside Of Which Scared Children Live

by NobodyOfficial



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Pacific Rim Uprising - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drifting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, hermann is a badass, kind of you'll understand, there is some fluff I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobodyOfficial/pseuds/NobodyOfficial
Summary: The world is once again on the brink of destruction and looking to Hermann Gottlieb for salvation. Saving the world starts with saving just one man, and this time that man is Newt.Left to his own devices, Hermann makes an uncharacteristically rash decision and drifts with Newt in an attempt to rid his mind of the Precursors. But Newt's mind is riddled with fear, and fear is hard to control.





	We Are All Jaegers Inside Of Which Scared Children Live

**Author's Note:**

> I was just remembering Del Toro's quote and I felt really inspired. It's only a quick fic and I promise it's quite soft. It might be one of the better things I've written, but I could just be really muddled up and it sucks so please tell me if it doesn't make sense and I'll take it down.

In less than a day the world could end. Every Jaeger and every pilot were currently situated in the Anteverse, battling valiantly against native Kaiju and the Precursor hive-mind. If they failed, if Hermann failed them, no one would be left to protect the Earth, and Kaiju could demolish it within hours. In short, there was no time for method or logic; only for rash, perhaps slightly idiotic, action. The perfect man for the job was pale as Kaiju bone and bound, unconscious, to a seat.

For the first few months of his incarceration Newt had been violently resistant: tugging against his restraints until his wrists dripped crimson, refusing food with a knowing glint of malice in his eyes, screaming at even the prospect of a civil conversation, sometimes until he asphyxiated himself and passed out. It had been torturous to watch the Precursors continue to destroy Newt's mind and body at such a alarming rate, but that was nothing in comparison to the downward spiral Newt had been on since the Jaegers had invaded the Anteverse. The Precursors had all but abandoned him in order to defend their home, leaving his body sick and lifeless; a shell.

Hermann had worked relentlessly to find a way to cure Newt of the Precursors, pouring every spare moment of his time into the enigma. He'd tried therapy, medication, even things he deemed utterly unscientific, like music, but all of Newt's past interests only seemed to irritate the Precursors. In the end he'd come to the conclusion that the only solution was to drift with Newt and discover what was really going on in his head. Of course that was deemed too risky. Hermann could become infected too or the Precursors could find a way to destroy Hermann's mind from the inside, so he was encouraged to find alternatives. He didn't like the fact that Newt was being treated like a contagious disease.

However now there was no one around to stop him. Everyone was preoccupied with the potential end of the world and Hermann had Newt all to himself. There was nothing further he could do for the pilots. He considered himself something of an expert when it came to the apocalypse now and knew his best chance of saving the world started with saving one man. Thankfully this time that man got to be Newt.

It felt almost wrong slipping the PONs onto Newt's lolling head. Last time they'd drifted together they'd been so united Hermann hadn't even paused to consider if they were drift compatible or not, they'd both just known. Now he wondered if there was enough Newt, the old Newt, the real Newt, the Newt who jammed to hardcore rock musical while dissecting an alien, left for Hermann to drift with. He secured the PONs over his own head and initiated the drift.

Instantly Hermann's head started to ache from the inside out, a familiar burning alerting him that he was now sharing his mind with an alien. This time, however, it was sharper, stronger, more overwhelming. The Kaiju had been a minor presence in the last drift, an annoyance at the back of his mind. He'd been overwhelmed by how close he felt to Newt. Newt's mind was manic and frantic at first touch but after a couple of seconds settling into the new situation it became warm and comforting. Newt's memories were happy and optimistic, bombarding Hermann's doubt with gratitude and excitement. Newt had always believed in himself.

Hermann closed his eyes and laced his fingers with Newt's, hoping to strengthen their connection. Newt's hands were so cold he felt dead.

Hermann's mind was bombarded with vicious memories he tried to disregard. Memories of darkness, a need to inflict pain, blood and terror and glee. He knew they were Precursor memories. But then, Newt and the Precursors shared memories, so he supposed they were Newt's memories now too.

The pain seemed endless. Hermann fought his way through it, trying to battle his way into any part of Newt's mind that he was still fully in control of, but there was nothing. He didn't want to panic. Newt's mind was already filled with so much panic any more may destroy it completely, but he couldn't help becoming desperate. He relaxed completely and let the drift consume him, floating through what were now Newt's memories, searching for anything to cling on to, to save.

A boy.

Suddenly Hermann couldn't feel his own body but he could see it moving through the charcoal light, towards the young boy. It was dark and he was hunched over and grimy but Hermann would have recognised his tousled hair and soft features anywhere. Cowering in front of Hermann was an eight-year-old Newton Geiszler.

Hermann wasn't quite sure of what was happening, which was deeply unsettling for a mathematician. This wasn't a memory, as it felt like he was watching himself as much as he was watching Newt, but he was certain he hadn't broken the drift. He felt disjointed and blurred, as if in a dream.

Newt started when Hermann took a step forward, still using his cane despite not being able to feel anything. "Are you alright?" He asked softly, holding a hand out to placate the boy.

"D-Dr Gottlieb?" Newt stuttered, eyes widening. His English was still slightly accented; he was so young. So afraid. Visibly shaking. Drifting like this had never been experienced before and Hermann suspected that was a good thing. "Dr Gottlieb!" Newt's face split into the same old smile, eyes scrunched and cheeks round. He threw himself at Hermann's legs and despite witnessing the child's tight embrace Hermann still felt nothing. All the same he reached down to affectionately stroke his disastrous hair.

"Newt, what's happening here?" Hermann inquired. A bolt of pain shot through his head and Newt winced at the same time.

"It's coming," he whispered, crawling behind Hermann and curling into a ball. "It's coming for me! I'm scared!"

"What's coming?" Hermann crouched beside him, his leg pain free. "What are you afraid of?"

"The monster," Newt whimpered. "It took my keyboard. It broke my glasses. It's going to hurt me, help me Dr Gottlieb, please!" And there were those same green eyes that had dragged Hermann into the drift the first time around, pleading and desperate and tear-filled. He could never say no to Newt, especially this tiny, chubby, fear-fuelled boy Hermann had only ever seen in pictures.

"I'll protect you," he promised. Another strike of searing hot pain jarred through Hermann's mind and Newt latched himself onto Hermann's jacket and squealed. Silence. Darkness. A figure emerged from the depths of Newt's mind.

Only it wasn't, as Hermann had expected, the grotesque features of a Precursor or even the gargantuan head of a Kaiju. It was Newt. The new Newt. Clean shaven and well dressed, with sharp cheek bones and a sneer. The Newt everyone thought was a monster. The monster Newt believed he had become.

"That's the monster, Dr Gottlieb I'm so scared, I'm so afraid, help me," the tiny Newt babbled behind him. Hermann reached a hand behind his back to comfort the boy without taking his eyes off Precursor-Newt.

"Newton," he said softly, "I'm going to need you to be very brave. Can you do that?"

"N-no," Newt snuffled. "I'm not brave. I'm just a scientist."

"You are never just one thing, you're many, many things. You're a scientist. And a rockstar. And my friend. And you're brave." Newt hid his tear-stained face in Hermann's back. "I promise I'll protect you." He had made Newt that promise once before, silently inside his own head, and the alien creature stood before him was just a devastating reminder of how he'd failed to keep it. This time he wouldn't fail.

Newt crept from behind Hermann's back, one hand still gripping his jacket and eyes locked on the floor. Or, at least, the darkness that they seemed to be suspended in. "What?"

"Look at the monster," Hermann commanded. Newt flinched and shook his head rapidly. The Precursors bared Newt's teeth at Hermann in a victorious grin. "Look at it," Hermann said again. "What do you see?"

"There's a man-" Newt started.

"No, that's where you're wrong." This was starting to feel a lot more like their usual conversations. "That man is not a monster. He's a puppet. Look at him. Tell me who the real monsters are."

"I don't want to. I'm scared," Newt sobbed.

"Look."

"I can't-"

"Newton Geiszler, you are not a monster!" Hermann's tone was harsh and commanding and for a moment his heart skipped as he feared he'd severed the drift connection. But then Newt raised his head and looked directly at the Precursors and they could see them for what they really were: swarms of colonising monsters who had inhabited his friend.

Newt gasped and grabbed Hermann's hand, trying to look away again, but Hermann stopped him from turning his head. "Look at them," he whispered, "and tell them you're not a monster."

"I'm not a monster," Newt mumbled to himself. The Precursors were advancing, limbs moving as one as their hive-mind drove them forward.

"Tell them like you're a rockstar."

Newt's eyes lit up. He stepped away from Hermann, positioning his legs the way one would to play electric guitar, then threw his head back and screamed, "I. AM NOT. A MONSTER."

For the first time there was silence. Then the drift was broken.

Through no lack of trying it took Hermann several minutes to be able to open his eyes and several minutes more to be able to manoeuvre his limbs. He was crumpled on the floor, one hand still clutching Newt's, leg in agony. Still, he lunged for his cane and hauled himself up, pulling the PONs from Newt's head and inspecting his face closely. His eyes looked sunken and bruised and his nose was bloody, but Hermann was certain his own face looked a wreck too. Newt's eyelids flickered but made no move to open.

Hermann was unsure of what had happened in the drift, or if he had even been drifting at all. Perhaps the Precursors' presence had been too much and had knocked him unconscious, causing him to have a strange dream. He could vaguely recall a conversation with Newt about how the part of the brain that experienced fear was child-like, but Hermann had found Newt's hypothesis utterly unscientific and had terminated the conversation there. He decided that he would never, ever, tell Newt to shut up again, even if it meant listening to hours of drivel about bands he didn't care about, food he hadn't heard of, biology that was border-line conspiracy theory. He just wanted to hear Newt saying something, anything.

"Hermann..."

Newt's lips had barely moved and his eyes still weren't open but his voice was so raw, so filled with emotion, so distinguishable from the snarky tone he'd been using for the past ten years. Without even thinking Hermann snatched the key from his pocket to unshackle Newt's wrists. He knew the Precursors were perfectly capable of imitating Newt's conduct and gestures and tones, but he was done with making logical decisions today. He wanted to hold Newt in his arms, even if that meant having Newt's hands at his throat a few moments later.

As soon as the restraints were undone Newt slumped forward and Hermann dropped his cane to catch him. Despite his best efforts Hermann hadn't been able to move Newt an inch after his first drift. He'd thought it would be easy, Newt was small and slightly soft, but as Hermann soon found out he was also sturdy and solid (and usually full of ramen noodles). Now he felt fragile in Hermann's arms.

Hermann dropped to the floor, pulling Newt with him so he could rest his head in his lap. He stroked a hand through his hair, which was slightly overgrown and once again endearingly messy. He watched Newt's chest, dreading each time it fell that it wouldn't rise again. Mercifully, it always did.

All notions of saving the world were now long gone from Hermann's mind. Now all he could think about was the future, the slightly more distant future, in which he'd walk Newt to therapy and kiss him goodbye and they'd comfort each other when they woke from nightmares and they'd only ever have arguments about silly things that would end in them laughing and kissing softly. He'd have an unlimited supply of sugary American foods and he'd watch all of Newt's favourite TV shows and listen to all his theories afterwards and all his favourite songs and he'd get excited about them with Newt because Hermann's enthusiasm always seemed to cheer Newt up and, God, he just wanted to tell him this, all of this, because he'd been waiting ten years to prove to Newt he was now worthy of loving him. He had always loved him in some way or another, but now he knew how to appreciate him, like him, understand him.

"Hermann." Newt's voice was so soft but Hermann still froze when he spoke. His eyes were open now, warm and gentle and no longer glazed and distant. He curled his chapped lips into a smile. "You're such a badass now, dude."

Hermann wanted a sharp, witty response but all that came out of his mouth was, "I love you," over and over as he cried.

"I know." Newt was crying too, but somehow they were less of a mess than they had been ten minutes ago. "You totally just risked your ass to save me. I know, dude, I love you too."

Any moment Hermann would have to go and save the world. How could he not, now that he had everything to live for? But he enjoyed the feeling of holding Newt in arms for the first time in ten years. Tonight when everything was over, when he would make sure everything was over, he would sit vigilantly beside Newt's hospital bed and recall every detail of his face down to the pattern of his freckles. But for now he enjoyed the one trait Newt seemed to have picked up from him during their drift; the ability to appreciate a quiet moment.

It wasn't truly silent. Newt's breathing was deep and uneven and Hermann couldn't stop his own breath from shaking and somewhere just outside of that cell every alarm in the world was raging, but they were quiet and they were still and for just a moment they could enjoy each other. It was the second of peace in the eye of a hurricane while the world outside was torn to pieces.

Hermann grabbed his cane and got to his feet, struggling even more to lift Newt's weak and sickly form. It felt almost cruel to both of them, Hermann's head was too heavy for his shoulders and Newt was barely conscious, but once again they were the only people who could save the world. Secretly Hermann quite liked that thought; he must've inherited it from Newt.

For the first time in months Newt was dragged from his prison, but there was no more time for celebration. Hermann was going to stop the world from ending. And he was going to make sure Newt never had anything to be afraid of again.

**Author's Note:**

> That was probably bad but I'm sk tried I honestly can't tell, sorry. You can hmu on tumblr @ itsalwayssunnyontelevision if you wanna tell me how much I suck, there's some PacRim stuff on there.
> 
> Aaanyway. Thanks for reading!


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